


Duckling

by Rose_of_Pollux



Series: Inktober for Writers 2017 [28]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: M/M, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-28
Updated: 2017-10-28
Packaged: 2019-01-25 18:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12538616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_of_Pollux/pseuds/Rose_of_Pollux
Summary: As Illya looks after a fever-stricken Napoleon while on the run from THRUSH, Napoleon ponders over and converses with someone only he can see.  Takes place during the second year of the partnership.





	Duckling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alynwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alynwa/gifts).



> Written for the Halloween exchange (there is a gen version on FFN); also fulfills Prompt 28 of Inktober for Writers: Power. This was also largely inspired by the M*A*S*H* episode “Follies of the Living, Concerns of the Dead”

Napoleon had seen better days—he was suffering from a high fever after being kept as a captive of THRUSH for several days. Illya had managed to rescue him and led him on an escape through the woods, but it soon became clear that, considering both his fever and the residuals of whatever drug THRUSH had given him, Napoleon was too out of it to be traveling for much longer.

“The communicator signals are not getting through to headquarters; I cannot call for backup,” Illya muttered. “Napoleon, I am sorry, but we will have to rest at a safehouse until my call can go through. You need to sleep that fever and the drug off, and I’m sure there will be a first aid kit to treat you with.”

“No-no-no-no, ‘m fine, really,” Napoleon insisted, though his weary tone of voice suggested otherwise. “I can last until we make it back to a town.”

“Perhaps you could, but I am not going to take that chance with your health,” Illya insisted, looking around the woods to get his bearings and find the direction of the safehouse. “Just give me a minute to coordinate ourselves with the map.”

“You dunno where it is…” Napoleon said. “See, there’s no need to bother. The road is right here; we can just follow it…”

“I must insist.”

“Look, ‘m the CEA, and I say we go back to town and get ourselves a nice hotel and you can play doctor for me alllll night long…”

“When the CEA is unfit for duty for whatever reason, the power and privileges of the position temporarily transfer to the second in command, which would be myself,” Illya said, without skipping a beat. “Your feverish state temporarily disqualifies you as being of sound mind, so I get to make the decisions now.”

“Aw, shucks…”

“And anyway, when you’re pulling rank, I know you’re not being rational…” Illya added.

“Eh,” Napoleon shrugged. “Lemme just take a look at the road anyway—see if I can figure out which way the nearest town is…”

Illya continued to look at the map as Napoleon hobbled to the edge of the side road that cut through the forest. Napoleon glanced up and down the road, but both sides looked the same to him. He sighed and shrugged again to no one in particular, but then paused as he noticed an older woman wearing traditional Ukrainian clothes on the opposite side of the road.

“…Uh… Hey…” Napoleon said, but she didn’t seem to hear him. “Uh… Ma’am? Could you tell us where we are…?”

He stepped off into the road, not even noticing the car now approaching from down the road. Mercifully, Illya had glanced over at him as he talked and let out a yell of panic as he saw what was about to happen. He rushed forward and pulled Napoleon away from the path of the car.

“I promise you, I shall handcuff you to me next!” he scolded.

“I wouldn’t mind…”

“Shush! What possessed you to do that!?”

“I didn’t see the car—sorry…”

“What were you trying to do!?”

“Don’t you see the old lady?” Napoleon asked, gesturing where he had seen the woman. He paused, seeing nothing. “She’s gone… Is she okay!? Did she get sideswiped by that car!? Illya, we have to--”

“She was never here, Napoleon,” Illya said, gently. “Between the fever and the drug you were given, you are seeing things.”

“…But I saw her…”

“I am sure you did; I am not accusing you of lying. But it tells me that you desperately need rest more than anything. Now, come with me; I have found the way to the safehouse. It’s this way--”

He was cut off by a gunshot that narrowly missed them, striking the tree beside them. Napoleon stared at the bullethole for a moment as Illya grabbed him by the hand and ran, practically dragging his partner with him.

“How did they track us down so fast!?” he asked.

“I dunno…” Napoleon said. “But what about the lady? She could get hurt out there in all of this--”

“There’s the safehouse!” Illya said, indicating what looked like a pile of rocks. It was, in reality, an entrance to an underground cabin. He dragged Napoleon inside and quickly had him in bed with a glass of an electrolyte liquid to help rehydrate him.

“You lie here and rest; I’m going to stay at the guard position until I am sure that the THRUSHies have no idea where we are,” Illya said.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Napoleon asked. “This _is_ a double bed…”

Illya sighed, exasperated.

“Later,” he said. “Once I am sure it’s safe.”

“I hope that’s soon.”

Illya grunted and climbed up the ladder to the lookout post that was the above-ground area surrounded by the rock pile.

Napoleon drank the rest of his drink and tried to place the glass on the table beside the bed; he missed it, though, and the glass fell to the floor. He let out a “tsk” and reached for it, but paused as he saw the older woman from the road picking the glass up and placing it on the table herself.

“…How’d you get here?” Napoleon mumbled.

“I came in with you and _Kachenya_ ,” she said.

“ _Kachenya_?” Napoleon repeated. His fevered mind attempted to piece together the Ukrainian he knew. Then, it clicked. “Oh, ‘duckling.’ Ha, I’ve always said he reminds me of a duck! His name is Illya.”

“I know,” she said. “And you are… Napoleon, correct?”

“Yeah, that’s right; you’ve been paying attention,” Napoleon said. “I don’t believe I caught your name…”

“Nika.”

“A pleasure, Ma’am. …Look, ah, I hope you don’t mind if I don’t get up; I’m kind of under the weather, and ‘Ducky’ over there wants me to take it easy.”

“I understand,” she said, with a smile. “You listen and do as he says. He is a very smart boy.”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” Napoleon mused, suppressing a chuckle. “He’s from your neck of the woods, actually—Kiev. Well, he was born in Moscow and then moved to Kiev…” He trailed off as Illya clambered down the ladder again. “Hey, Ducky! We were just talking about you!”

Illya blinked.

“‘We?’”

“Yeah, me and…” Napoleon trailed off; the woman was gone again. “…She was right there! The old lady I saw by the road!”

Illya gave him a gentle smile and kissed him on the forehead.

“Napoleon, you need to rest.”

“I am resting! What do you call this—exercising?” Napoleon indicated the bed he was lying in.

“It is a good start,” he said. “But I need you to sleep. The THRUSHies are still patrolling outside, and we cannot make a move until they go. I just came to get my communicator and see if I can get through to headquarters and have them send some backup. I think you are right about getting you back to civilization as soon as possible.” Illya grabbed his communicator. “I do not think we are in any danger; there is no reason for them to suspect there is a safehouse here. But, just to be sure, I will keep an eye on them.”

“Sounds good,” Napoleon mumbled. He sighed, resting his head deeper on the pillow as Illya climbed back up the ladder. “Be careful!”

“I will,” Illya promised.

Napoleon watched him go and then closed his eyes; he quickly reopened them as he felt a cold cloth being placed on his forehead. Nika was back.

“Hey, where did you disappear to?”

“ _Kachenya_ may be a smart boy, but when he is preoccupied, he misses obvious things,” she tutted. “This will help you.”

Napoleon chuckled.

“You remind me of my Ma,” he said. “She’s proud of me, but when I do something stupid, she makes sure I know it.”

“Then she did a good job,” Nika said, flatly. “Children, they need praise. But they also need to know not to be foolish.”

“…Yeah, you and Ma would have gotten along great,” Napoleon mused. “Hey, do me a favor—the next time Illya comes down here, can you stick around? I don’t think he thinks you’re real.”

“ _Kachenya_ , he doesn’t trust what he doesn’t see with his own eyes…” Nika sighed. “That is not easy to change.”

“True,” Napoleon murmured. “But, now that you mention it, I wouldn’t want to change Illya for the world.”

“No?”

“Nah,” Napoleon said. “I fell in love with him as he is; why would I want to change him?”

“You… love him?”

Napoleon blinked, realizing that the conversation had just taken a very awkward turn. He tried to backtrack.

“Ah, well… I think the world of him; let’s just say that,” he said. “And it wouldn’t be fair to change him. He is who he is, and I have to accept that—warts and all. But, between you and me, there aren’t any warts.”

“Yes, his face, he has no warts.”

“That’s true, but that’s not what I meant,” Napoleon chuckled. “It’s an expression. It means that even if he has flaws, I’m willing to accept them, because I love him for who he is, not what I want him to be.”

“I see.”

“Yeah. We’ve just started going together--”

Napoleon was about to say something else, but the sounds of gunshots grabbed his attention—and Nika’s, as well.

“ _Kachenya_!” she exclaimed.

Napoleon forced himself to get out of the bed.

“No, you must rest…!” she protested, but Napoleon waved her off. “Napoleon! Stay in bed!”

“Illya needs me,” he insisted, and he grabbed his Special and climbed up the ladder.

“What are you doing!?” Illya hissed at him, as he fired through gaps in the rock cover. “Napoleon, you can’t--!”

“You need me, and I want to help,” Napoleon insisted. His aim was a little off, but he did manage to get one of the THRUSHies outside tranquilized. “How did they realize you were here?”

“They did not,” Illya said. “I got through to headquarters; it turns out they were already tracking us down. But as our agents approached the safehouse, they caught the attention of the THRUSHies outside, and the firefight started. I tried to back them up from here in any way I could.”

“So you’re okay?” Napoleon asked.

“ _Da_ , THRUSH does not know that I’m sniping them from here. So you should go back to bed.”

“Nah, the sooner I help you help our agents, the sooner they can get me back home with some antipyretics…” Napoleon paused to aim again, ignoring the sweat pouring down his face. He fired once more, getting another THRUSHie, but then he suddenly felt overcome by dizziness.

“Napoleon!” Illya exclaimed, keeping him from falling over. “Oh, you blockhead…! Why did you not stay in bed!?”

“You’re talking just like that lady down there,” Napoleon muttered. “Give me a break, _Kachenya_ …”

Illya paused.

“…What?”

But Napoleon had passed out from exhaustion; thankfully, the other U.N.C.L.E. agents were soon able to get the upper hand and capture the THRUSHies, and then help Illya and Napoleon.

When Napoleon came to, he found himself in Medical, feeling much better, and with Illya by his side.

“Hey…” he said, with a smile.

“How are you feeling?” Illya asked.

“Much better. I’m guessing they gave me the medicine?”

“They did,” Illya said.

“What happened to the woman who was looking after me in the safehouse? Did she make it out alright?” Napoleon asked.

Illya paused.

“Napoleon… there was no one there. I looked myself—in all of the rooms. I could not find her.”

“You looked?” Napoleon asked. “Really? I thought you didn’t think she was real.”

“I thought that, at first,” Illya admitted. “But the word you used… _Kachenya_ …”

“It means ‘duckling,’ right?” Napoleon asked.

“ _Da_. You never said that before.”

“Yeah, I’d never heard it before, but that lady said it a few times. That’s what she was calling you.”

Illya gave a shaky nod.

“Only one person ever called me _Kachenya_ —my mother,” Illya said, after a moment.

Something clicked in Napoleon’s mind, recalling when he had brought Illya to his home to meet his parents a few months ago, and how, in a rare moment of openness, Illya had talked about his parents, and their names—Vanya and Nika…

 _Nika… She practically told me who she was and I didn’t figure it out because I was so out of it!_ Napoleon silently chided himself 

“She called me that all the time…” Illya continued. “In fact… it was the very last thing I heard her say when the Germans invaded Kiev…” He swallowed a lump in his throat as the memory of the day returned. “‘ _Vtekty, Kachenya_!’”

“…‘Run, Duckling,’” Napoleon translated.

“I did as she said. And I never saw her again.”

“Illya… I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Illya said, sighing deeply. “Perhaps you were stricken with fever, but perhaps you did see her. Perhaps I can take comfort in the possibility that I might see her again someday.”

“Even if you don’t see her with your eyes, I think today proves that she is still looking after you,” Napoleon said, softly.

Illya managed a nod.

“Thank you, _Dorogoy_.”

They both fell silent after that, Napoleon still needing more rest, and Illya needing a bit of rest, too, after having so much on his mind. Illya gently held Napoleon’s hand in his as they dozed.

They were both still asleep when Nika reentered the room, unseen by the mortals shuffling around her.

“Napoleon,” she whispered. “Thank you for giving my _Kachenya_ someone to love. I see that your feelings for him are true, and I need not worry while you are here.” She turned to her son now. “And you, my _Kachenya_ , I am proud of all you have done, and all you have accomplished on your own. But know that you are not alone. Those hardships are behind you now, for you have found someone who does, indeed, love you. He has opened his home and family to you; treat his parents as you would your Papa and myself.”

She placed her transparent hand atop that of her son and his partner.

“ _Kachenya_ … Illya… And you, too, Napoleon…” she said. “I give you my blessings. Look after each other.”

She turned to leave, but she looked back—and watched as Illya stirred, his eyes opening slightly. For an instant, mother and son looked at each other for the first time in 20 years, and Illya blinked, as though he thought he was seeing things.

When he looked again, however, she had vanished from his field of vision.

“A dream…?” he murmured to himself. “The power of suggestion…?”

Perhaps it was, perhaps it wasn’t. But he squeezed his partner’s hand and soon fell back asleep.

He would hold on to what he had.


End file.
